September 21, 2014 JESUS & MORRIE 1. Seeing What Really Matters Matthew 4: 1-11

Stage Set: Front and center on the stage are two chairs. The one on the left is an easy chair, with an afghan draped over its back. On the audience side of the chair is a small table with magazines, newspapers and books stacked messily on it. Placed opposite the big chair is a simple folding chair.

Pastor: While attending seminary in Denver, Jan and I led a youth group at a local United Methodist Church. It was back in the 1970's when the Cold War and Value Clarification were daily realities. But you didn’t just talk about values. You had experiences during which you discovered what your true personal values were.

So we had arranged for the associate pastor to come interrupt our Sunday evening youth meeting, acting as if something quite urgent had happened. I stepped out of the room and, after we joked with each other for a moment, I came back to the youth group with the announcement that Denver was under the threat of attack and we were to make our way as orderly as possible into the basement of the church. The kids weren't sure if this was real or a joke, but they all filed through the dark hallways of the church and into a windowless, lightless basement room. We lit candles and I explained the situation. People were evacuating the city and making their way to the mountains. Their parents and families were gathering just a minimum of belongings and as papers and pencils were handed out, we told them that they had to make a list of the 10 things they most wanted their parents to take with them. There was some nervous laughter and tremendous uncertainty, but the kids undertook the hard task of figuring out what was most important to them. I pretended to leave to make a phone call and came back with the news that everything was in chaos and they had to shorten their lists. They had to choose five of the most important things to them. We dragged it out for as long as we could and finally, with a big sigh of relief, told them that it was not a real situation, but the exercise we just went through was very real. Most of the youth were really upset with us because they got scared, but once we settled down, we had a great conversation about what really matters to us and why. It turned out to be a significant learning experience for us all. I thought about this while reflecting on today’s scripture reading from Matthew about Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness. Fresh from the spiritual high of being baptized, of having the Spirit of God descend upon him in the form of a dove and a voice from heaven saying, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased...” Jesus was led into the wilderness. That same affirming Spirit now drove Jesus into the wilderness of testing, trial, and temptation. Reader: Matthew 4:1-11 The overriding question in this whole scenario was, “what really matters?” What will guide him, define him, energize him as God's Son? He prayed and fasted “for forty days,” the same number of years the Hebrews wandered in the wilderness between slavery and the land of promise. (BTW, when we read “forty days” or “forty years” in the Bible we should translate it simply as “a long, long time.”) Jesus was sorting things out. What would his life stand for? What would be the message of his words and deeds? How would he stay close to God and reveal God? He may have been the Messiah of God, but he was human, too, and he struggled with the same issues and forces and dilemmas as you and I. The Tempter said, “Make bread out of these stones. Put your physical hungers first. In fact, give bread to the people and they'll love you for it. Think how far the Messiah can go by giving bread to the masses.” “It takes more than bread to stay alive,” Jesus said. “Life comes through the words that flow from God's own mouth.” “Then wow the crowds, Jesus,” the Tempter said. “Show them something spectacular. Entertain them by jumping from a high building and having angels catch you before you hit the ground. How could they doubt that you are God's chosen man?” “You're talking about manipulating God. The holy writings say we are not to put God to the test.” “Look, Jesus, you can have so much if you will do things my way. After all, most people do. I'll place in your hands power and fame, wealth and glory. It's easy, just do it my way.” “You have nothing to offer me,” Jesus replied. “Go away for my worship is reserved for God alone and I will do things God's way. That's why I am here and that is what I am about.” Jesus’ direction was set. The values of the kingdom were clear. The meaning of his life and ministry has been hammered out through prayer and facing down the options that “at-tempted” to pull him away from God. As you and I stand today on the edge of a new year of ministry & service, we are provided with the same opportunity. These dawning moments create for us a quiet wilderness to pray and fast and to confront those forces in our lives and in our church that vie for our worship and carry empty promises of life abundant. We live with temptation tenaciously tugging on our souls. In fact, it has become so common we hardly even realize that it happens! As we spend the next few Sundays with Jesus, we will enjoy some short dramas adapted from a little book called Tuesdays With Morrie. It's about the Tuesday conversations held between a man named Mitch Albom and his old sociology professor, Morrie Schwartz, who was dying from Lou Gehrig's disease. In a sense, it was their own wilderness experience, a journey into life both for the one who was dying and the one who was by his side. This morning we embark on the Engaging Faith quest for Kingdom Treasures and we begin the critically important process of learning to see what really does matter in life. Let’s listen in on some of the conversation between Mitch and Morrie as recorded in the chapter called “The Classroom.” The cast makes their entrance. Morrie is an older man dressed in pajamas covered with a bathrobe and slippers. He shuffles in assisted by a younger woman, Connie, his caretaker. He is holding onto an IV pole with a drip on it, rolling it alongside him. He comes in and sits in the big chair. Connie takes the afghan off the back of the chair and places in over his lap and legs once Morrie is seated. Connie exits the stage. Coming behind is Mitch, dressed in casual clothes, and carrying a yellow legal pad of paper. He sits in the folding chair and faces Morrie. Once Morrie and Mitch are settled, Connie re-enters, rolling in a kitchen cart with two plates of lunch food and beverages. She places a plate on Morrie’s lap and places a beverage on the little stand beside him. She hands the other plate and beverage to Mitch, who places the glass on the floor and the plate on his lap. Connie exits the stage. They are having lunch together. Morrie: You know, Mitch, now that I'm dying, I've become much more interesting to people. Mitch: You were always interesting. Morrie: Ho! Morrie smiles… You're kind. Mitch: Turns to face the audience as if to share a confidential thought… No I'm not! After speaking, Mitch faces Morrie again. Morrie: Here’s the thing. People see me as a bridge. I'm not as alive as I used to be, but I'm not yet dead. I'm sort of... in-between. Morrie coughs, and then regains his smile. I'm on the last great journey here – and people want me to tell them what to pack! A phone rings. A female voice, Connie, speaks from off stage… Connie: Morrie, can you talk? Morrie turns his head to answer Connie and answers in a raised voice… Morrie: I'm visiting with my old pal now. Let them call back. Morrie continues eating his lunch. Mitch stands up from his chair and moves toward the audience to speak to them. Mitch: I can’t tell you why Morrie received me so warmly. I was hardly the promising student who had left him sixteen years earlier. Had it not been for seeing him on a “Nightline” segment on ABC, Morrie might have died without me ever seeing him again. I had no good excuse for this, except the one that everyone these days seem to have. I had become too wrapped up in the siren song of my own life. I was busy. What happened to me? Morrie’s high, smoky voice takes me back to my university years, when I thought rich people were evil, a shirt and tie were prison clothes, and a life without freedom to get up and go – you know, a motorcycle beneath you, breeze in your face, cruising down the streets of Paris or into the mountains of Tibet – well… that was not a good life at all. What happened to me? I’ll tell you what happened. The eighties happened. The nineties happened. Death and sickness and getting fat and going bald happened. I traded lots of dreams for a bigger paycheck, and I never even realized I was doing it. Yet here is my old professor Morrie talking with the wonder of our college years, as if I'd simply been on a long vacation. Mitch returns to his seat opposite Morrie and looks at him. Morrie: Have you found someone to share your heart with? Are you giving to your community? Are you at peace with yourself? Are you trying to be as human as you can be? Mitch squirms in his seat. Remaining in his chair, he faces the audience to speak… Mitch: What happened to me? I once promised myself I would never work for money, that I would join the Peace Corps, that I would live in beautiful, inspirational places. Instead, I have been in Detroit for ten years now, at the same workplace, using the same bank, visiting the same barber. I’m thirty-seven, more efficient than in college, tied to computers and modems and cell phones. I write articles about rich athletes who, for the most part, could care less about people like me. Pause for reflection… I’m no longer young for my peer group and I don’t walk around in gray sweatshirts with unlit cigarettes in my mouth. I don’t have long discussions over egg salad sandwiches about the meaning of life. My days are full… yet, I remain, much of the time… unsatisfied. What happened to me? There’s silence as they eat their lunch, absorbing the quietness of the room. Let the silence continue for a while. Mitch is feeling a bit embarrassed. Suddenly, out of the silence, Morrie speaks… Morrie: Dying is only one thing to be sad over, Mitch. Living unhappily is something else. So many of the people who come to visit me are unhappy. Mitch: Why? Morrie: Well, for one thing, the culture we have does not make people feel good about themselves. We're teaching the wrong things. And you have to be strong enough to say if the culture doesn't work, don't buy it. Create your own. Most people can't do it. They're more unhappy than me – even in my current condition… The scene grows quiet and still as the pastor enters stage right… Pastor: And the Tempter took Jesus to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. He said to Jesus, “All these I will give you. Just do things my way and worship me.” “Beat it,” Jesus said to the Tempter. “I’m interested in real life. I'm going to do things God's way.” I hope you'll join us for the next few Sundays as we consider together what really matters in life, spending our Sundays together with Jesus and Morrie and Mitch…